


Doctor Regis Blackgaard

by TheSilentBard



Category: Adventures in Odyssey
Genre: Backstory, Blackgaard Backstory, Blackgaard Chronicles, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:13:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilentBard/pseuds/TheSilentBard
Summary: Regis Blackgaard, while completing his PhD in child psychology at UC Berkeley, meets Professor M and discovers in him a kindred spirit of sorts. With Professor M's attitude regarding the pursuit of knowledge at any cost, and Regis's ambitions, the two make for a dangerous pair. Regis takes his first steps towards his inevitable role as Odyssey's villain.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Doctor Regis Blackgaard

_Doctor Regis Blackgaard_. The title had a nice ring to it. Father had always wanted one of his sons to carry on the family’s legacy, and Regis would not become a disappointment like his twin brother, Edwin. _Edwin_ had run off to join a traveling theatre troupe at the first sign of freedom. Needless to say, Father had not been pleased. Doctor Regis Blackgaard, Sr. was a medical doctor, a renowned brain surgeon, sought the world over for his expertise. He could not have a son wasting away his life in the theatre! He’d only agreed not to cut Edwin off at Mumzy’s urging – Edwin was her favorite, after all. Not that Regis cared. The approval of his parents was a perk, not the goal, of earning his doctorate.

But Regis wasn’t a doctor; not yet. And not of the kind which would have pleased Dr. Blackgaard Sr. most. _No matter. I have more important things to consider than our family legacy._ Regis steadied his hand over a flask and let two CCs of potassium iodide drip from the bottle into the solution. He watched as the solution turned a dull gray color and he frowned. That was _not_ what was supposed to happen.

“Mr. Blackgaard?” A surprised voice echoed across the dim interior of the chemistry lab. Professor M stood at the door, holding a thick manila folder tucked under his arm, his wild gray hair illuminated at the fringes like a halo by the light spilling in from behind. “What are you doing here so late?”

Regis ground his teeth. He disliked being interrupted, particularly in the midst of a failure. “I was _attempting_ to synthesize your chemical solution with the mineral you brought back from South America.” He returned the potassium iodide to its cabinet above the workstation, and then carried the flask with his failed solution to the case marked ‘disposal’. “But I did not receive the chemical reaction I had hoped for.”

Professor M stepped fully into the lab and chuckled. “Shouldn’t you leave the experimenting to the chemistry students?”

 _Shouldn’t_ you _be more guarded with the mineral, rather than leaving it in a science lab where just anyone could use it?_ Regis bit back the curt response that leapt to his tongue. It wouldn’t do to alienate the only man who’d ever shared his ambitions. Instead, he changed the subject as he cleaned his hands. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Where did your research take you this time? South America again?”

Professor M came to the desk at the front of the lab and unlocked one of the drawers beneath it, placing the stuffed folder inside. He gave Regis a knowing smile. “Oh, no. Much closer to home this time around.” He looked out the vaulted windows at the gibbous moon, its light broken by webs of shadow cast by the spindly trees. “It’s late, but I have news for you that can’t wait.” He closed and locked the drawer, then headed for the door. “However, this is a conversation for my study, not a darkened chemistry lab.”

Regis frowned. He did not like surprises. But he had learned early on that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Especially with Professor M, it was better to be patient and let him share everything in his own time. But of Regis’s very few virtues, patience was not one of them.

They walked through the empty corridors of UC Berkeley, out of Gilman Hall, and down the stone path towards faculty housing. Regis’s impatience grew with each step, each moment of prolonged silence. _If you are going to share your news with me, then have out with it, old man! You said yourself that it can’t wait!_ He wanted to shout.

But prudence won out, and he bit his tongue until they were both inside of his professor’s home, standing together in his small, personal library. The chamber was dimly lit by a pair of wall sconces, and another lamp on a table which was situated between two wing-backed chairs. “So, then? What is this news?”

“Would you care for a cup of tea? I can put the pot on.” Professor M asked as he offered one of the chairs to Regis.

Regis held up a hand. “No, thank you, Professor. I’d rather hear your news that was so important you had to drag me all the way out here to share it.”

Professor M ruffled his black hair and smiled disarmingly. “I could go for a cuppa. We’ll be here awhile, I think. I’ll make some for you.”

“That is entirely unnecessary,” Regis snapped, straightening his hair as he tried to keep his anger in check. But there was no rushing the professor. So, he gathered his composure and said, “Black tea, no sugar and no cream for me, please. If you _must_ make it.”

“Great! I’ll return shortly.” Professor M disappeared through the study door, leaving Regis to his own devices.

Regis looked about the room as he nursed his sour mood, and spotted an unblemished, gleaming sheet of metal leaning on one of the bookshelves. It reminded him of the first time he’d been invited to Professor M’s house as a graduate student…

…

Regis, freshly returned to the United States from his studies in Vienna, found the warmth of American interactions cloying. The false smiles and jocund salutations were a notable departure from the short, austere exchanges he’d grown accustomed to. Perhaps it was his own fault for picking a renowned university on the West Coast instead of staying in New England to finish his degree. But UC Berkeley had a robust research program for child psychology, and it was as far away from his parents as he could get _and_ complete his degree whilst remaining within the continental United States. Social niceties were a small price to pay for the benefits UC Berkeley provided.

Still, he found nothing more maddening than the pretenses kept up by Professor M—, an eccentric but brilliant chemist whose work had caught Regis’s attention.

He attended one of Professor M’s seminars after reading the academic journal released by the professor earlier that month. The professor talked in a very animated manner, gesticulating wildly with his hands as he described the chemical reactions which resulted in the oxidization of human cells, and their eventual degradation.

As part of his demonstration, he took an oxidized sheet of iron—parts of which had begun to flake off from the rust—and held it up for the students to examine. “Imagine that this is one of your cells. Old age sets in, and the body begins to decay after being exposed to the natural elements.”

He strode across the room and indicated two flasks which each held a clear liquid. “Now, we all know that rust can be cleaned with simple chemicals one can find in any store—baking soda, vinegar, citric acid…” He dipped the iron in the first flask. “Eventually, with a lot of hard work, you can soak and scrub away the rust. But you might ruin the integrity of the metal or tool.” He removed the iron from the solution and scrubbed hard with a scouring pad. The metal snapped in two.

He held up the broken pieces. “See, eventually the metal is too far gone, and no amount of effort can fix what has been broken.” He took the half that had not been submerged in the first solution and stepped in front of the second flask. “But what if I were to tell you that the rust could not only be removed, but the oxidization process reversed entirely, protecting the metal from further decay?” He dropped the metal into the second flask, and the solution began to fizz, turning a dark orange color. He wore a nearly manic grin as he removed the metal from the solution with a pair of tongs. It came out gleaming, all signs of decay gone.

Intrigued, Regis leaned forward in his seat. Over the course of the remaining minutes, Professor M described the chemical reactions involved in what he called “retrograding”. He’d borrowed the term from astronomy, and it meant _to_ _revert to an earlier condition or go back in position or time_. Regis felt a buzzing excitement fill his chest. If what the professor was saying were true, then perhaps he should have studied chemistry, not child psychology.

“The aim of my research at the university is to take this principle and apply it to the human body. Imagine a medicine that could unmake cancerous cells, or a chemical compound that could reverse the negative effects of aging.” He cast his arms wide. “Don’t let the limitations of today stop you from pursuing the science of tomorrow. Scientists are dreamers first and foremost. You will never discover what you cannot first imagine.”

At the end of the seminar, Regis waited for the other students to finish speaking with the professor before he approached. The lecture hall was empty, and the professor did not seem to have noticed Regis’s presence.

“Do you really believe that one could reverse the effects of aging?” Regis asked, startling the professor as he tried to gather his papers, which instead fell to the floor.

“Oh!” Professor M bent to start picking up the scattered papers and glanced up at Regis. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He smiled benignly, confusion creasing his brow. “You don’t look like one of my students. Are you new to the chemistry program?”

Regis folded his arms and his eye twitched. “No, I’m in the graduate program for psychology.”

“Clinical?”

“Research. Neuroplasticity and the young mind.”

“Ah.” Professor M picked up the last sheet of fallen paper and stood, giving Regis another one of his infuriating smiles. “So, what brought you to my seminar today, if you aren’t looking to study chemistry?”

“I read your publication from this month, on the long-term effects of the environment on the human body.” Regis pressed him, “And I was particularly interested in your ideas about preserving youth.”

Professor M tapped the side of his nose and looked at Regis as though they were sharing some great secret between them. “Most people think that the human body is the biologist’s domain. But what is a living organism if not a bundle of chemical reactions working in harmony to keep the host alive?”

Regis didn’t quite agree with what the professor was saying but suspected it would be seen as a slight to disagree, and he needed this man to like him. “Of course,” Regis replied flatly. “But what have you discovered so far? Surely, I go too far to say that you’ve insinuated this in your peer-reviewed academic journal, but—were you speaking of the fountain of youth?”

A gleam entered the professor’s eyes then and he nodded towards the door. “Would you walk with me? I believe this is a discussion that we should continue elsewhere.”

…

Professor M returned with a teapot and two china cups balanced on a wooden tray. “Now, then!”

“Your news, professor?” Regis prompted the moment he entered the room.

“Tea first, Regis. I’m no Philistine!” Regis grimaced at the Biblical allusion, but let it slide.

Once they were both comfortably seated in the wingback chairs, holding steaming cups of tea, Professor M finally seemed ready to share. “You recall the fragment that we discovered in South America? Near the fountain?”

“The Alvenaria text. Yes, how could I forget? Don’t tell me, you’ve finished translating it?” Regis set down his cup and gripped the arms of the chair. “What does it say?”

“The ancient masons were very guarded with their secrets, but there can be no doubt of what the text tells us.” Professor M leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner, and despite himself, Regis was drawn in. “Alvenaria discovered the secret to eternal life!”

Regis sat up, shaking his head. They had come too close too many times for Regis to get his hopes up again. “Surely these are just the ramblings of a mad scholar.” A healthy dose of skepticism was necessary in these situations.

“Not at all! He explains exactly how immortality can be achieved,” Professor M continued. “The fountain of youth was never a fountain at all—it was merely a place marker for the masons to meet up, where they attempted to synthesize the chemical which would grant them immortality. However,” and here his face fell, “they lacked our modern conveniences, and were never able to complete it. But they spoke of metal boxes with mirrored surfaces that shone with light from within, and numbers scrawled across them.”

“ _A computer._ Then _we_ have the means…” Regis fell silent. The wheels in his head began to spin. He only had a semester left at the university before his dissertation would be complete. And after that, he would need to establish himself as a researcher at the college or become a professor himself. But he didn’t have the patience to teach, and he found the college’s rules regarding research a bit restrictive. “What do you need to complete the chemical?”

“It’s that mineral again,” Professor M intoned. “I’ve been working off incomplete information regarding the mineral’s properties. Now that I’ve translated the full fragment, I’m still missing pieces of data, but I have a clearer understanding of what I’m looking for. Which brings me to the important news.”

 _Out with it, you old codger!_ Outwardly, Regis feigned polite interest, letting the irritation simmer underneath. “What are you saying, professor? You’ve found the real mineral this time?” _And the one I was using in the lab was useless after all._

Professor M deflated a little, the wind taken out of his sails when Regis guessed correctly. “Well, yes, actually.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea. “But it wasn’t anywhere abroad. I visited an old friend in Chicago, an earth scientist who works at the natural history museum. When I explained what I was looking for, _he_ directed me to his friend in the _NSA._ ”

This time, Regis didn’t have to feign interest. “What in the blazes does the NSA have to do with it?”

“Apparently, the mineral we are looking for is aleorite, and it is already being used by the NSA…as a bioweapon.” Professor M sat back in his chair and sipped at his tea while this bit of information sank in.

A _bioweapon_. The mineral they needed to create eternal life was part of _a bioweapon_. “If this is true, then we are as likely to kill ourselves as discover the secret of eternal life,” Regis growled.

Professor M shook his head. “No. This is good news. We have more information about the behavior of this mineral than I ever could have hoped for. We won’t be going in blind.” He set his emptied cup on the tray. “Besides, my friends’ contact in the NSA was able to tell me where she found the aleorite. It’s in a small town, some place that no one would suspect to look for it.”

Regis’s head snapped to attention, eyes narrowed. “You know where we can get more of it?”

Professor M nodded. “Yes, but there’s a catch. You recall the name we found at the bottom of the paper, I’m sure.”

How could he forget. Inexplicably, written in the same hand as the translated script on the text fragment was the name ‘John Avery Whittaker’, using the modern English alphabet. From what they could tell, the fragment predated the 7th century, when the alphabet was invented. “Don’t tell me you know who it is.”

“Actually, yes. I met the man himself.” Professor M watched Regis closely as he delivered this information. “He was at the NSA.”

“The NSA?!” Regis leapt from the chair and began to pace, unable to control his impatience any longer. He understood now why the professor had insisted on speaking behind closed doors. “Professor, stop just _insinuating_ your news and be forthright with me. Does the NSA have the means we need to synthesize this chemical? Somehow I don’t see them cooperating with our little experiment.”

Professor M smiled mildly and put out a staying hand. “Sit, Regis. You’re making me dizzy with all that pacing.”

“I would prefer to stand, thank you,” Regis said brusquely.

“As you like.” Professor M shrugged and poured himself more tea. “Whittaker isn’t a member of the NSA. It seems he used to work for them, but he’s a teacher in a small town now. He was just visiting a friend that day, or so I was told.” He blew over the rim of his cup. “More likely, he was consulting with them on that computer program he built for the department of defense called Applesauce.”

“Applesauce? What sort of a name is that for a computer program?” Regis snorted in derision.

“It’s the name of a computer program that can model a million chemical reactions per second,” Professor M replied coolly. “This is the computer program that is going to model the aleorite compounds for us, so we don’t waste our precious years testing every chemical solution the long way around.”

Regis stroked his stubbled chin in thought. “And the aleorite?”

“It’s in a small town called Odyssey, in the tunnels beneath the city.” He paused, meeting Regis’s eyes. “The town where Whittaker lives.”

Years spent traveling the globe in search of the mineral, enduring hardship and deprivation, and it had been in their own backyard the entire time. Not only that, but the man who’d built the miracle program they needed to create it _lived_ there. Regis couldn’t help but laugh. It came out in maniacal peals, and nearly brought him to tears. “Then all we have to do is secure a plot of land in Odyssey and what, _convince_ this Whittaker fellow to give us his program?”

Professor M cleared his throat; he seemed disconcerted by Regis’s reaction. “You do understand that it won’t be as easy as that. Whittaker is very guarded with his inventions, especially the ones that were developed during his years in the CIA. He won’t just let us have it.”

Regis settled his laughter, resuming his seat next to the professor and finally taking up his own cup of tea, downing half of it in one gulp. “How did you come to know about this program, anyways? I don’t buy that you just ‘overheard’ Whittaker talking about it with his NSA buddies.”

Professor M smiled slyly. “I have my connections. None of them are strong enough to get us a copy of a classified program, but I _do_ know that Whittaker’s program is the missing piece to our research.”

“Then how do you propose we go about acquiring it?” Regis asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

“With patience and care,” Professor M replied. “First, we need that mineral. We can’t do _anything_ until we have all the elements involved in the compound.”

Regis grunted. “You’ll die, old man, before we can finish it if you make us wait with _too much_ patience.”

Professor M finished off his second cup and returned it to the tray. “Be that as it may, we’ll both end up in prison if we rush.”

Regis scowled. Professor M had just said what had remained unspoken between them for many years; their methods were not always above board. The ends justified the means, in the professor’s mind, and on that at least Regis could agree. _You might end up in prison, you batty old coot, but I’m far too clever to rot in a cell for the rest of my life._

“Then let’s do it your way,” Regis broke the silence that had settled between them. “I will finish my degree, become a respectable doctor. Then I’ll get you your mineral _and_ Applesauce, no matter how long it takes. No matter the cost.” He broke into a wide, menacing grin. “No matter the consequences.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is based loosely on the backstory given to Regis Blackgaard in the Blackgaard Chronicles novelization. I wrote it to fill the dearth of Blackgaard fanfiction, and because I didn't feel that the books did his character justice. Blackgaard deserves to be given the same treatment as so many other villains. This short fiction is my take on how he takes his first steps towards villainy.


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